


It Won’t Seem Like Christmas (Without You)

by GreatFuckingMaracas



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Baking, Boys In Love, Brian May/Roger Taylor Fluff, Christmas Kisses, Christmas Presents, First Christmas Together, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, I’ve written this five times, Kinda, M/M, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatFuckingMaracas/pseuds/GreatFuckingMaracas
Summary: It’s their first Christmas as a couple, but Roger and Brian are forced to stay in during a snowstorm. That won’t stop them from having a cute Christmas with each other.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor, Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury (mentioned)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14
Collections: The Clog Factory Happy Holidays Fic Exchange





	It Won’t Seem Like Christmas (Without You)

1976

 _“We encourage you to not travel anywhere. The snowstorm won’t let up until December 30th. Please stay indoors and keep warm,”_ the meteorologist’s urgent voice rang through the radio across the small flat. 

“There go our plans,” Roger sighed, throwing the magazine he was reading on the chipped coffee table. 

He swung his legs over the armrest of the couch and laid back, humming a familiar tune. 

Brian strolled into the decorated living room and plopped down on the plush beige couch, “That’s alright, love. Our first Christmas might not be seeing a light show, but we have each other instead to keep warm during the snowstorm.” 

The smaller man huffed and shimmied his body towards Brian to lay his head on his lap. The man sitting up carded his slender fingers through the shortened dirty blond hair. Accidentally catching some knots and murmuring little ‘sorry’s. Roger drowsy from the treatment to his hair and closed his eyes though. It was a nice day even if the streets were covered in a new fresh coat of snow. 

Not twenty minutes earlier, they were getting ready to see the Christmas light show in Trafalgar Square. Now, they were waiting for any weather reports about the unexpected winter storm. They're still in the Christmas sweaters Freddie gifted them before the holidays since the lead singer would be spending it with Jim. 

A simple green and red-striped sweater for Brian and a more extravagant one for Roger. The drummer looked like he was a Christmas present waiting to be unwrapped with that large knitted bow. Prominent on the front and circled to the back as if the ends were tied together. Instead of wearing jeans to go out, the boys changed into some pyjama bottoms. 

“This is nice,” Roger mumbled, opening his heavy eyes to reveal mesmerising baby blues. 

“It is, darling, and I can’t believe I get to spend it with you,” Brian whispered and leant down to softly press his lips to Roger’s pliant ones. Brian’s tight brown curls sliding past his shoulders as he did.

The blond hummed into the kiss. “You’re a sap,” he whispered when they pulled apart for air although he had a light pink dust on his face. 

“I can’t help it. You have this effect on me. The same effect from when I first met you.” 

Brian remembered back to when he first laid his hazel eyes on Roger, eight years ago. It didn’t take long for him to develop a hopeless crush from the drummer that played on for seven years. Until New Year's Eve of last year when Roger came knocking on his last flat's door, wearing a party hat and holding a bouquet of daffodils. Brian opened the door and stood there shocked while Roger began to ramble about his love for the older man. Not missing a beat once. It was almost like a fairytale ending with a passionate kiss. 

Now, they lived in their own flat without a John nagging them to do work around the house or a Freddie telling them to ‘shut the fuck up! Some of us are trying to sleep!’ on rowdier nights. They’ve had their quarrels but that only made them stronger. They’ve always made things work. This was no different. They could have their first Christmas together inside their flat. At least it was decorated. 

There was a fake pine tree in the corner next to the bookshelf in the small living room. Fragile shimmering red and gold ornaments hung from artificial leaves. Some of the ornaments held pictures of the band, their parents, or pictures of just Roger and Brian. Bright white fairy lights were messily hung onto hooks on the top of door frames. It was cosy like being inside reading a novel under a blanket during winter. 

“Mmm, Bri?” Roger mumbled, looking up dazed from whatever daydream. 

Brian hummed in response. 

“Can we bake something?” he asked with big icy blue eyes staring into warm hazel ones and a small pout formed. 

Brian gave a small smirk, “We can as long as you don’t handle the eggs.” 

A gasp emitted from the blond and he brought his hand up to smack Brian’s shoulder. He sat up a bit to look at his boyfriend in disbelief. 

“That was one bloody time! It’s not like we’re boiling the eggs!” Roger scoffed, “You can trust me to crack them!” 

“One chance and then you're only on mixing duty.” 

The blue-eyed man huffed and sat up all the way from his position on the comfy couch. Brian, on the other hand, stood up to hold a hand out for Roger and hauled him up once he had a grip on his hand. 

“C’mon, darling, let’s go attempt to bake god knows what,” the curly-haired man murmured, wrapping an arm around Roger’s waist and guiding him to their tiny kitchen. 

He pulled away from Roger and moved to the record player on a brown table in the corner. The smaller man stood in the middle of the room, watching Brian kneel to rifle through the rock records in the record holder. He gently pulled out a vinyl that Roger, from his distance, couldn't name. Brian slid the shiny black disk out of the paper sleeve. He stood up. His long fingers lifted the stylus and placed the delicate disk on the player. He put the needle at the beginning of the used record. 

Xylophones cheerily play through the festive flat and a crescendo of jazz instruments play out moments later. A few seconds after the first line is sung and Roger knew _It Won’t Seem Like Christmas (Without You)_ was playing. Brian straightened up from his hunched-up position to put the record on and chuckled at the shorter man’s blushing face.

Before a word was spoken between the two men, Brian stepped closer to the blond until he grabbed his right hand. He lifted it far above Roger’s head and began to signal a twirl. Slowly, Roger spun around and back again with Brian for guidance. They did it once more as Brian pulled him close when he came back around to whisper the first phrase of the second stanza. 

“Seems a short time since we've been together,” he sang, causing Roger to giggle. 

They swayed side to side as Brian changed up some more words to fit their relationship. Roger was a giggly mess. 

There they were. Two men in their late twenties in the middle of the hardwood floor whispering back and forth the lyrics of songs on _Elvis sings The Wonderful World of Christmas._

They let the music become background noise and focus on each other. Uttering words of love to each other. Both think about how far along they’ve come not knowing the other thought the same. 

It’s not always easy being a couple during these times. It was a bold move when they told the world they were dating in April during an interview in Perth. The backlash hurt and they thought about ending it, but Freddie started his relationship with Jim and didn’t give a fuck. The more they thought of the issue, the more ridiculous it seemed. Why should people about what you do- or who you do- in the bedroom? 

They were both pulled out of their thoughts when Roger asked “Can we bake now?” 

Brian hummed and untangled himself from Roger to search around for ingredients to make sugar cookies, “Aren’t you gonna help? We’re making cookies.” He looked at Roger who almost looked like a deer in headlights.

The younger nodded and walked over to open a cupboard that held flour, sugar, and baking soda and powder. 

Roger can admit that he’s no baker, but he can remember the recipe of certain goods. He happily takes down the dry ingredients to put on a black marble countertop. Brian had already put the butter, eggs, vanilla, and salt out. The taller man had a cabinet opened to grab a mixing bowl and measuring cups. 

“I think we’re set, love,” Brian observed quietly.

He pulled Roger towards the ingredients and opened the powdery flour bag to pour into a cup until it was up to the one cup mark. He sifted it into the bowl as it explained on the paper. Roger cooperated by attempting to crack an egg to plop onto the flour. A light puff of white shielded their eyes for a moment. 

“I still can’t believe it,” Brian chuckled to himself. 

“Can’t believe what?” 

“That I get to spend Christmas with you… even if we are snowed in. I can’t believe my boyfriend is Roger Taylor. That he picked me out of anyone,” he said loud enough for the other to hear but quiet enough to not break the cosy atmosphere they created over the day. 

“Oh, hush, you!” Roger fitted before thinking of what he just said, “Now you’ve got me sounding like my mum!” 

“I can’t help speaking the truth. I mean- first, you ask me out slightly drunk on New Year's Eve and now after almost a year, you still seem content. Like you don’t give a damn about anything other than us. Christmas with Roger. Your last partners must have loved that,” Brian rambled. Neither were shy to talk about their past relationships or bring up the other’s relationships. 

“Oh, fuck off!” Roger laughed, “Can’t go one day without you being a huge softie!” 

By now, they’ve _successfully_ added all the ingredients in and could start mixing. 

“You love it!” 

“I do,” Roger admitted with a shy smile and grabbed a wooden spoon to mix. 

His blue eyes trailed to the frosted window in front of the sink to see the snow slowing its unforgiving cold and ice. It’s not often that it snows so it’s almost magical to say the very least. Maybe it isn’t so bad. Being cooped up in their flat, listening to music, and trying to bake. 

They didn’t even realise this side of the record had come to an end until only the drum part was playing and faded away to static. Roger definitely didn’t Brian leave the room as he mixed and rolled out the dough to cut out into shapes. Angel, ornament, and tree-shaped cookies. At least Brian took out a cookie pan and draped waxing paper over the cool metal before disappearing for the blue-eyed man to place the cookies on. Roger opened the already preheated oven and carefully set the pan of unbaked cookies in the warmed space. He stood back up from his bent position to look for his boyfriend. 

“Bri?” Roger asked into the silence with no response. 

He began to walk down the narrow hallway until he was in front of their bedroom door. At the bottom of the wooden door, a soft glow peeked out of the slit. 

He knocked on the door lightly, “Bri, lovie, are you in there?” 

There was a muffled thump on the other side of the door and a quiet “fuck!” and the door opened to reveal a grinning Brian. 

“Hey, darling, I was just taking your present out of the closet,” Brian said while holding something behind his back and leaning against the door frame. 

Now, that got Roger really excited. He tried to look behind Brian’s back but a forefinger and thumb gently but firmly held his chin to look into hazel eyes. 

“Not yet, you nosy thing,” Brian teased, “Go in the living room and I’ll bring it to you.” 

Roger nodded frantically and clumsily ran to the room, excitement coursing through his veins at a million miles a minute. His boyfriend always got him the sweetest presents and although he also teases the older man for being soft, he really loves him for that. ‘Course he’s too stubborn to admit it, but Roger has become a better person after becoming friends and eventually lovers with the guitarist. He only felt bad that he didn’t get Brian a present.

He sat himself on their couch and crossed one leg over the other. What felt like an eternity but was only a few minutes, Brian came leisurely walking into the room. The same damned gift behind his back that just had to be kept as a surprise. Luckily, the coffee table was pushed away from the couch earlier, so Brian was able to kneel in front of Roger. 

“I want you to close your eyes and hold out your hands when I place it in them,” Brian said quietly, looking up into Roger’s blue eyes. 

The drummer closed his eyes and held out his shaking hands. Something slightly weighted is gently laid on his skin. He gets the okay to open his eyes and gasps once he sees the item. He always wanted this but wasn’t expecting to have it like this. It was a signed copy of David Bowie’s _The Man Who Sold the World_ album that he had been begging Brian for. He didn’t ask for an autographed one but in no way would he complain. He set the new record beside him and leapt into Brian’s arms. Nearly causing the older man to fall backwards but steadied them anyway. 

He shook violently in the arms from shock and excitement, “How the hell did you get that?!” 

“Let’s just say Freddie pulled a few strings for you.” 

Roger leant forward to kiss Brian square on the lips. He tried to express all his feelings of love, exhilaration, happiness, and thrill. They broke apart to breath and began to lean in to kiss once more, but Brian lifted his head slightly and sniffed the air. A strong smell filled the room. 

“What’s burning?” 

Moral of the Story: don’t let Roger forget about things in the oven.


End file.
